raise what's left of the glass
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
General of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 47 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 61 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 61 - Luck: 58 - Int: 2
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#1
It's Lord of the Flies in my mind tonight
There’s an inbetween (of course there’s an inbetween) but for her it’s unremarkable, a place she’s seem before, run across, teleported across, met Eirachi on. The Fangs hold more fascination - the jagged peaks and bitter winds howling across the dark, ice-topped rocks scream a challenge to the Grounder who could conquer all of Caido, if only given the chance. No sun too hot, no glacier too cold, no ocean too deep - only the monsters in their shadows and the Gods in their conniving ways pose a threat to the steel-backed demigod.

The Kraai is warm. Noisy. Half-filled with Halovians in their Flowerbirth awakenings; far more alive and energetically agreeable than in Deepfrost, they give the pair a surprised once-over as they arrive just inside the door.

But Wessex is known here, and even if the welcome has more than a handful of eyerolls, the Queen gets a few waves and she unwraps herself from around Aurela. “How do you feel?” she asks, leaving her hands on the Torcher’s shoulders, peering at her face for any signs of dizziness or frostbite.
Aurelia Murlow
the Fireheart


Age: 29 | Height: 5'7" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
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#2
eyes can't shine unless there's something burning bright behind
It's a cold whirlwind of teleportation, which Aurelia's only ever truly experienced once (aside from portals which are a bit different). It was a lifechanging one, at that, and her heart hammers against her chest in remembrance of it, of losing everything she ever had. She's rebuilt herself; reformed, even. Still, the stir of emotions and changing places from hot to cold to freezing and finally to the warmth of some place she's never been... her stomach clenches and her throat struggles to hold back bile.

Wessex asks how she's feeling and, to be honest, her fingers have turned numb and pale with frostnip. However, she finds that hard to focus on as she desperately searches out someplace to freely vomit. A bin is found and she sinks against the rim, retching loudly until her body has nothing left to express.

Nobody looks particularly thrilled about that, as she recovers unsteadily and groans. Luckily, it's a bar... customers throwing up is probably pretty standard business. At least it's not because she's drunk.

Aurelia wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and finally notices the way her fingers feel like they're being stabbed with pins and needles. She grimaces and turns to try and find Wessex, "My... uh, my hands, I think they're..." She's at a loss. "Can we rest here for a bit?" She asks, but doesn't wait for an answer as she finds a booth to sink into. She tries to rub her hands together to recreate the feeling of circulation, but it just hurts to do.
Aurelia
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
General of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 47 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 61 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 61 - Luck: 58 - Int: 2
LOKI - Mythical - Dragon (Energy Blast)
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#3
It's Lord of the Flies in my mind tonight
While it may have been an well-intentioned question, it was clearly the wrong question; Wessex grimaces to herself while Aurelia vomits into a bin, helpless to prevent that kind of a reaction. She’d warned, but there’s no anti-teleportation medicine other than simply getting used to it.

“Of course.” It’s why she’s brought the Torcher here, because it’s a good resting and halfway point between the Climb and the Halovian portal. Nothing a good Ursur skin, whiskey and water won’t solve, so she gestures for Aurelia to stay in the booth while she heads to the bar and pulls her usual strings. Hi, yes, I’m the Queen of Hollowed Ground and helped build this bar, be a dear and get me two whiskeys and a water, won’t you? A flash of a fanged smile and the occasional dropping of Neron’s name usually does it when the former won’t.

She returns with the three drinks and places a whiskey and water in front of Aurelia. “Water first, then whiskey.” And then she reaches her hands across the table, palms facing towards each other. “Here. I’m cooler than the room. Might not hurt as much.” There’s space between them for her own hands, if she wants to try a slower thaw, but the Wraith will be nonplussed if she’s turned down.
Aurelia Murlow
the Fireheart


Age: 29 | Height: 5'7" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
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#4
eyes can't shine unless there's something burning bright behind
Aurelia sinks into the table, which is warm to the touch and makes her flinch a little, but she's too fatigued to really resist the temptation to just... collapse in a messy heap. The cling of the drinks against the table in front of her causes her to lift her head up, part her hands, and glance up towards Wessex with a rather depressed expression. She hates getting sick. Tough hunter fighter type, and it's the one kind of physical pain in the world that turns her into a pile of shit.

"Thanks..." she mutters hoarsely, sipping at the water for the moment though her eyes do draw towards the whiskey temptatively. The numbing burn of it sounds like a better cure, if she's honest, than something healthy and lame like water. But she knows it's better, so she nurses the glass.

Wessex's extended hands surprise her, and at first the offer almost doesn't make sense. But... maybe she has a point. So, with hesitant glances between her hands and that stoic-looking face of hers, Aurelia slowly presses her hands into Wessex's palms. She lets out a sigh through gritted teeth and slouches against the table.

She's quiet for a few moments, looking a little guilty. She feels bad for being such an inconvenience to her, seems like an important sort of person. "Thank you for helping me... twice, now," she offers a half-smile, "you didn't have to."

"Did I hear that right? You're.. a queen?" Her brows arch, uncertain of what that really means here in Caido. She's referring to the murmurings of other people in the establishment as they regarded the two's arrival - and the way Wessex addressed the bartender.
Aurelia
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
General of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 47 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 61 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 61 - Luck: 58 - Int: 2
LOKI - Mythical - Dragon (Energy Blast)
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#5
It's Lord of the Flies in my mind tonight
“What was I going to do, let you get mauled? Leave you in the Climb?” Scoffing, Wessex presses her hands gently around Aurelia’s, trying to temper without overwhelming. “As far as I know you don’t deserve that - do you?” There’s a bit of a mischievous glint in her pale blue eyes as she asks the Torcher, raising a brow ever so subtly. Is she teasing? Flirting? Lightening up the situation?

After a minute or two, the Wraith removes her hands and instructs Aurelia, “Breathe on them now, keep your finger joints moving.” And of course, that’s what the whiskey is for - to bear the tingles and the sharp pricks of flesh coming back to life. There’s no blackening or pale death to the woman’s skin, so she’ll be quite alright. It just isn’t… fun.

“Yep, but maybe not the way your home world thinks of one. I was voted in, not appointed by the Gods or born into it.” She takes a sip of her own glass, letting it sit in her mouth until she can feel the faintest nip of alcohol’s bite, the ghosts of a flavor she once loved. “Gods, you really don’t know who I am, do you?” It’s more incredulous than accusatory, and the Wraith ends up smiling at the thought of still being able to be anonymous.
Aurelia Murlow
the Fireheart


Age: 29 | Height: 5'7" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
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#6
eyes can't shine unless there's something burning bright behind
Aurelia raises surprised brows up at Wessex's scoff, to which her expression hardens with deeper thought. "Well... maybe not now, but once upon a time... I might've deserved it," she admits, billowing out a heavy sigh as she follows the instructions to keep her fingers moving. They waggle free of Wessex's grip, which is cold but somehow comforting - perhaps it's the sentiment behind it. Aurelia breathes hot brath across her knuckles and joints as she goes, pausing only to listen.

"My home world didn't have kings and queens except in fairy tales," she states simply, though there's a longing in her voice for those simpler times when fairy tales seemed so real. Now they're just surreal. "but I suppose that's still different."

At Wessex's incredulous statement about not knowing who she is, Aurelia shakes her head with uncertainty. "Do you know every single person beneath you?" She prompts, almost in challenge. She is used to authority not having a care for those beneath them, and so she has always made a point not to care, either... It's not so surprising she's missed the memo on Wessex being a Queen.
Aurelia
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
General of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 47 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 61 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 61 - Luck: 58 - Int: 2
LOKI - Mythical - Dragon (Energy Blast)
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#7
It's Lord of the Flies in my mind tonight
She hums quietly, acknowledging the familiar sentiment. “Mine too, once upon a time.” And then the portals opened and the world seemed to change in the blink of an eye. Everything she thought she knew - gone. All the possibilities - restored. It turns out Caidonite societies had Kings and Queens, they just weren’t called that, until now.

And even now, she finds infuriatingly both difficult and easy to think of herself as a Queen.

Which explains the mixed feelings of Aurelia’s something-resembling-a-challenge. Wessex blinks in surprise, then seriously considers the question, going quiet for a long time. Her gaze, though distance, is surprisingly focused and when she comes back to the conversation, it’s with another hum of consideration. “In the Grounds? I think so. Maybe not by name, but all the Naturals… I could hazard a guess to which family they’re from.” And then, a look into her glass.

“It’s not a bad thing. I’m thankful for a truly clean slate every now and then.”
Aurelia Murlow
the Fireheart


Age: 29 | Height: 5'7" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
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#8
eyes can't shine unless there's something burning bright behind
Aurelia subdues at the extended silence Wessex falls into, not having meant to be so biting but also... entirely meaning to. Her bitter edge towards ruling authority runs deep, but it's not the fault of this woman she's never met.

As for her answer? It actually surprises Aurelia, who is so used to the kind of government that looks more closely at numbers, at profits, at... the things that don't truly matter in the grand scheme of it all. To them, the people beneath them are just that. Beneath them. Not people to know, not families to recognize for accomplishment or trade - let alone to know them by name.

"My world could've used more people like you to lead it, then," she comments regretfully.

She draws into a humbled hush, herself, reflecting Wessex's body language as she looks into her own glass. It's only when she mentions a clean slate that Aurelia looks up with a neutral raise of her expression. "A clean slate is nice, when... when you realize you've become something you're not, and not by your own fault, either," or at least, she's speaking to her own experiences. "I'm glad the Voice brought me here, truly," she admits, and more forcefully adds, "but I hope I never have to start over like this again."
Aurelia
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
General of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 47 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 61 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 61 - Luck: 58 - Int: 2
LOKI - Mythical - Dragon (Energy Blast)
Played by: Astor Offline
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#9
It's Lord of the Flies in my mind tonight
Now that is something she’s not heard before and it causes both a snort and a deep chuckle. “Can I get that in writing?” she jests (no but really, the deeply disguised part of her that craves approval desperately wants that right now) before moving on to a little more self-deprecation. “Cause I’ve got some people who would die on that hill.” Shrugging, she quickly brushes that comment off too. “But what leader doesn’t?”

The Kraai seems to go one of two ways - boisterous and rough around the edges, or the complete opposite. Though the world around seems loud, the Wraith feels like this booth is creating a quiet bubble all its own, something oddly close and… intimate.

“It isn’t entirely my own fault. I’ve made my fair share of shit choices. But life is a balancing act so I suppose all I can do is try to make up for them.” One step at a time. One saved Outlander at a time. One Sparkbird, one building, one smile. With no worries of ‘goodness,’ required for a happy afterlife she knows she’ll be welcomed with open arms to the Voice’s realm. But the wistfulness in her voice tell of many things she would like to do before them.

Taking another sip, Wessex swills the amber liquid in a practiced manner and then looks at Aurelia with an arched brow. “So what was your home like?” Time to steer away from talking about herself for a bit.
Aurelia Murlow
the Fireheart


Age: 29 | Height: 5'7" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
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#10
eyes can't shine unless there's something burning bright behind
Aurelia smirks at the jest, at the request of getting her words in writing. She snorts and shakes her head, reaching for the glass of whiskey. "Not sure that my word will account for much here," she replies quietly, before taking a hefty swig. The taste is dark and sharp against her senses, bringing more life to them, but she's not sure if she likes it as a shudder runs through her entire body. "Whew! Still gotta get used to that..." she mutters, clearing her throat.

If there's a bubble in the space they've created, Aurelia hardly notices this fact. She can appreciate the heart of it, of this conversation and situation and the sheer gravity it's all taken, but... she doesn't feel acutely aware of it, either. Deep sentiments seem to be her thing, which lends itself to this feeling more natural than not for her.

As for what Wessex has been through specifically? Aurelia doesn't know, and maybe she doesn't care to. Clearly this lady has seen some shit. Whether that's clear in her countenance, in the way she carries herself, in the way she seems so blase in the face of imminent dangers and unfathomable possibilities, or simply in the way she so casually regards them... the impression is made on Aurelia that there would likely be nothing that would surprise this woman. That, she can appreciate. She can also appreciate the sentiment of trying to balance out what she's done.

"It's not easy..." she comments, "there's always going to be some part of me that thinks... it's never going to really be enough." She frowns and looks up at Wessex's face more sharply, getting a hunch that she might understand that feeling.

As for what Aurelia's home was like? She chuckles and leans back, looking down at her fingers as she wiggles them about, trying to get that circulation back. "It was... not like this, at all," she begins, "the world itself was a harsher place. The weather, the animals... the elements.. it was all, out to get you, in a way," she mulls over the memories of it, somehow feeling a longing for it that she can't quite understand because she truly is happier in Torchline. "So people built cities underground. I guess.. we were kind of like ants, building our colonies, gathering resources from the top and bringing them back down," the comparison is a bit crude, but she's hoping it will make sense, "but it was terrible. It wasn't a good place to live, to exist. It... made me into something I shouldn't have been." She grits her teeth, brows pressing together, before she sighs. "I've learned a lot of the things I was taught were wrong, since coming here. It's... still strange, getting used to everything, even though I've been here for almost a year already."

"Anyway," she sucks in a short breath and raises her brows at Wessex, "what about you?"
Aurelia
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
General of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 47 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 61 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 61 - Luck: 58 - Int: 2
LOKI - Mythical - Dragon (Energy Blast)
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#11
It's Lord of the Flies in my mind tonight
Will it ever be enough?

Maybe. One day. She’s slowly learning that she can’t help those who won’t help themselves, she can’t control everything and in fact, she may be able to control very little other than her own actions. The Gods will do what they want, people will think what they want and in the end she’s accountable to no one but herself and the Voice. Maybe her siblings. Maybe. She nods silently in understanding and lets it rest at that.

The picture Aurelia paints of her home world is unexpectedly bleak. The Natural is well aware by now that each world has its own problems, but needing to build underground seems a terrible punishment that she can only begin to imagine. To not see the sky? The stars. If her eyes grow wide, it’s because she is trying to empathize with the Outlanders and… to an extent, she can.

“Mine was… similar, in a way. I grew up in the Grounds. Back then it had a magical barrier over it and nothing could go in or out. Over the centuries that really fucked up our weather patterns, our agriculture, and ultimately our health.” Inbreeding, disease, storms, mutations - you name it, they had it. “The heralds were trapped in there with us, but they didn’t really do shit to help. My family died of a sickness they just… wasted away from. The fields were overworked and lean. The animals were mutating. Every LongNight brought certain death for part of our community. Like you… we existed.”

And now that they're out, war looms on the horizon. What a fuckingly cruel twist of fate.
Aurelia Murlow
the Fireheart


Age: 29 | Height: 5'7" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
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#12
eyes can't shine unless there's something burning bright behind
By now, people's reaction to her origins don't surprise her anymore. Things are very different here, and in other worlds. So when Wessex's eyes stretch wider, she's unperturbed by it and even offers a light shrug in return. There's not much point in feeling sorry for it anymore, except to feel sorry for those she left behind, in that desolate place. That part does haunt her, but there's nothing she can do for them from here. She doesn't think so, anyway.

But when Wessex explains how life was in the Grounds, and the magical barrier trapping everyone within, it's Aurelia's turn for her eyes to widen and her brows to raise up in shock. Similar, yes, in a way - but also very different. Aurelia's people still had the option to explore beyond their means, if they were stupid enough to choose that. Some people were. People like her. That's how she'd ended up here, after all. Stumbled into some sort of wormhole or portal or... something or other.

"It must have been great to have the barrier taken down, though," she says, trying to empathize but also uplift, "and you're able to explore the whole world now." Of course, Aurelia has no idea that it wasn't as simple as that - nor that Wessex played a large role in a lot of things ending up the way they are now. "Do you think you'll stay in the Grounds?" Aurelia squints thoughtfully, "If I had the option to, I really don't know if I would return home or not... I'm happier here, my life is better in many ways... but my sisters are there..." She grimaces and returns to her whiskey.
Aurelia
Wessex Theskyra
the Wraith
General of the Hollowed Grounds

Age: 47 | Height: 5'8'' | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
Level: 12 - Strg: 61 - Dext: 60 - Endr: 61 - Luck: 58 - Int: 2
LOKI - Mythical - Dragon (Energy Blast)
Played by: Astor Offline
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Posts: 3,156 | Total: 4,350
MP: 0
#13
It's Lord of the Flies in my mind tonight
Chuckling, because Aurelia’s hit the nail on the head - that’s all she really wants to do, but she’s wrapped up in so many other responsibilities and obligations. “Technically, yes, I can. Except for Stormbreak. In all my free time.” Which, suffice it to say, is not as much as she might hope for.

Soon she might have more. But not right now.

Aurelia’s optimism and sweet naivete are much appreciated. Wessex does not dance around topics because she’s trying to hide something, but because she thinks that Aurelia knows more than she actually does. Not in a malicious way, but in a “been here long enough to know” way. Or so she thinks, until the Torcher talks about returning home.

“Well… your original self is still there. The Aurelia in Caido is a copy, from what I understand. I don’t understand the tech and the magic of how the Voice brings Outlanders here, but it’s like there are two Aurelia’s now. One here, one there, living entirely different lives.” Wessex has described this a few times, but she’s never sure if it helps or not, and she makes an indecisive, wavering face, accompanied by a shrug. “I don’t know if that’s comforting or not. But your sisters are not alone, so long as nothing has happened to you in your original world.”

Well. Maybe that is somewhat reassuring.
Aurelia Murlow
the Fireheart


Age: 29 | Height: 5'7" | Race: Abandoned | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Torchline
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#14
eyes can't shine unless there's something burning bright behind
Aurelia grimaces gently at Wessex's reaction to exploring. "Things aren't always that easy, that's for sure," she offers, hoping it will be a small comfort to know that she understands. At the same time, she's always been an avid explorer. Even if it was just part of the job, she learned to be good at it, learned to love it. "You shouldn't let that stop you, though."

When Wessex tells her of the copy of herself, Aurelia nods - but there's something uncertain about it. Indeed, she's hiding something and she knows more than she lets on. There always seems to be something she's harboring beneath the surface, even if she doesn't necessarily want to, nor does she do it maliciously.

"The problem with that is..." she diverts her gaze momentarily before bringing it back with a sigh, "when I ended up here, it was already after I had been.. teleported by someone. I think I was picked up from some other place, not... home. Maybe another world or somewhere in-between - before I could really tell what was going on, I was suddenly here. In Torchline, screaming bloody murder and threatening the first person I saw," she scoffs, "I was a mess... and part of me still is, because I'll never know what became of my sisters without me. I have an idea, but.. it's not good." Her brows press together with concern for her family, what little remained of it.

"I try not to think about it too much, but... part of me hopes that maybe they'll end up here, too. Someday. And I can tell them what happened. That I didn't abandon them... I wouldn't have, if I still had the choice. I just wish they could be here, too." She sighs heavily and returns to her glass, officially emptying its contents.

With a pointed look, Aurelia asks - perhaps out of drunken numbness, perhaps from the depths of her heart but, no matter the reason why, she wants to know the answer. "Do you think the Voice would do that for someone? Bring their family here, if they asked."
Aurelia


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